


Don't Ask Me, I've Got Nothing

by lielabell



Series: Rough and Tumbl'd [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Danny thinks Stiles is crazy, M/M, Season Three coda, Stiles takes Danny up on his offer, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes flick back to the console and he frowns when he sees that it’s been less than a minute since the last time he looked.  ”Oh em gee, time, pass slower why don’t you?” he mutters as he rolls his eyes.  ”It’s not like I’m sitting here, totally on the verge of losing my nerve or anything.”  He runs a hand through his hair, then panics, and flips down the visor to make sure he didn’t fuck it up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Ask Me, I've Got Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> So... tumblr is to blame for this. Tumblr and this [gif set](http://lielabell.tumblr.com/post/53828613008/stiles-chews-on-his-lower-lip-glances-at-the) and the fact that _that_ scene is actually real, not made up like half the things on tumblr. Okay, more than half. More like eighty-five percent of the things. BUT THIS IS IN THE FIFTEEN PERCENT THAT IS REAL AND THAT DID SOMETHING TO MY BRAIN AND I WROTE THIS. Um... don't throw anything sharp at me, okay?

Stiles chews on his lower lip, glances at the glowing green numbers on the console, and then lets out an inpatient huff. He taps his fingers on the dashboard to distract himself, humming the chorus of Call Me Maybe because it applies to this situation. It totally does. At least the crazy part does, anyway. 

His eyes flick back to the console and he frowns when he sees that it’s been less than a minute since the last time he looked. ”Oh em gee, time, pass slower why don’t you?” he mutters as he rolls his eyes. ”It’s not like I’m sitting here, totally on the verge of losing my nerve or anything.” He runs a hand through his hair, then panics, and flips down the visor to make sure he didn’t fuck it up. 

He didn’t. 

Or… maybe he did. Stiles honestly can’t tell. Not that it matters. His hair is just… hair. With just enough gel in it to say that he tried. Staring at his reflection right now though, he can’t even really say that much. But, whatever, Danny’s seen him looking a hundred times worse, hell, a _thousand_ times worse, actually. So there’s really no reason to panic now. Besides, it’s not like this is actually going to work. Stiles isn’t going to magically morph into Hot Guy Extraordinaire and have Danny falling all over himself at the thought of getting all up on that or anything. 

Jesus, what is he even thinking? He should just go home. He should so totally just go home. Because Danny was _joking_ and Stiles is going to look like a complete ass in, he glances at the console one more time, tee minus fifteen minutes. 

Stiles licks his lips, swallows hard, and then starts humming Call Me Maybe again. Because that’s what passes as logical thinking in his mind right now. He slips a hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, rubs the pad of his thumb over the sharp edge of the extra large condom he’s got stashed in there, just in case. 

Not that he personally needs an extra large or anything. He not even sure why he kept it. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Or maybe it was fate. Because he’s pretty sure that Danny, well. Danny does. Need extra grande. Stiles has been in the bathroom of The Jungle, alright. He’s heard things. Magical, wonderful things about Danny and his lack of a gag reflex and how his hips don't lie and a certain something about a package that would make any size queen whimper and moan. 

Which… okay, so Stiles’s would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly terrified of the thought of getting all of that up in him, but it’s Danny. _Danny_ , who didn’t laugh at him when he cried over dissected worms in six grade and told Jackson to back off when he got up in Stiles's face. Danny, who laughed at Stiles's jokes— alright, so it was under his breath when he thought no one else was close enough to hear, but still. He laughed at Stiles's jokes and smiled at Stiles sometimes and wasn’t a massive bag of dicks like every other hot, popular kid. Barring Scott, of course, but Scott didn’t count because he didn’t get that he was popular at all and why is Stiles thinking about Scott right now? Stiles shouldn’t be thinking about Scott and sex in the same stream of consciousness thingie at all because that was bad and wrong and oh shit. It’s nine o’clock and all is well. 

Stiles swallows again. _All is well_ , he tells himself as he opens the Jeep’s door. _That’s right, all is well._ He steps out, closes his eyes, and counts to ten. Then he sucks in a breath, shuts the door behind him, and makes his way up the steps to Danny’s front door. He knocks, then shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, which is awkward because that is where the condom is and oh god. Danny’s mom is totally going to open the door and Stiles is going to flail and drop that stupid condom on the ground again and then he’s just going to melt into a puddle of embarrassed teen-aged goo and no one is going to need to kill him at all because he will have killed himself. With embarrassment. 

Which is so not how he wants to go but is so going to happen because the door is opening now and it’s too late to run. 

Shit.

_Shit._

Stiles totally starts to flail preemptively because that’s his life. His mouth drops open and he looks around like maybe someone will just rush up the walk and save him from death by dropped condom but no one is there because it’s nine on a school night and what the fuck was Stiles thinking? How could he possible have even considered doing this? 

“Stiles?” 

He twists back towards the door, mouth still hanging open in what has got to be a massively unflattering way, in time to see Danny roll his eyes. 

“God, Stiles, it was a joke. A _joke_.”

“Uh, yeah, totally. Totally get that. It was a joke. Ha ha. Funny.” He does finger guns and Danny sighs which makes Stiles do that thing with his neck that he hates. The one where he looks like an iguana or something, bobbing its head because reasons. Science reasons. That Stiles should totally look up on wiki next time he’s bored or thinking about doing something super, super stupid like turning up on the front porch of the hottest guy on the lacrosse team in hopes of getting lucky. ”I just, uh, thought I would double check?” he finishes with a wince. 

Danny shakes his head like he thinks there might be something wrong with Stiles's brain, which, fair point because even Stiles is starting to doubt his brain's ability to process things in a rational manner. Or something. 

“I’ll just, uh,” he yanks a hand out of his pocket to jerk a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his Jeep, which is totally where he ought to be heading right now, but because his life is his life, the hand he jerks out is totally the hand that was fondling an extra large condom he’s never, ever going to get to use and it goes flying, just like he knew it would and— wow— hits Danny in the chest. 

Of course it does. Because why wouldn’t it? 

Stiles makes a sound that would do a dying moose proud and experiences his first full body cringe, which he didn’t even know was possible until this very moment. “Oh holy fuck,” he whimpers, all thoughts of escaping with his dignity gone like the wind.

Danny blinks at him for a moment and then shakes his head, a laugh rumbling up from inside of him. ”Jesus, Stiles. How are you real?” 

Stiles gives him an opened mouth smile and shrugs, shoulders nearly touching his ears. ”Your guess is as good as mine,” he says, because words come even when they shouldn’t. 

“Jesus,” Danny says again, then his hand is shooting out, fingers wrapping in the red cotton of Stiles’s hoodie, dragging Stiles forward in a completely unpredictable way. 

“Wha—” Stiles starts, but is cut off by Danny’s mouth. Repeat: _Danny’s mouth_. Pressing up against his. Because there really is a Santa Claus, Virginia, and he’s decided to come three months early and to give a poor bi-boy the best kiss of his life. 

“Oh holy fuck,” Stiles says again, when Danny pulls back, his eyes half-lidded and a sexy, smug look all over that handsome face. 

He jerks his head towards the interior of the house. ”Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to lurk in doorways?” he asks, voice all rough and tingle-inducing.

“Did you just quote a sea witch at me?” Stiles blurts out, because words just keep happening. 

Danny doesn’t answer, just cocks an eyebrow, then bends and picks up the extra large condom, smirk still firmly in place. 

“Coming?” he asks, as he turns to walk back inside. 

“Oh god, I hope so,” Stiles replies, hurrying after him. 

*

Scott groans when his phone chimes, waking him from a half-remembered dream. He wants to ignore it, god does he ever, but with the alpha pack and those not-at-all random murders, he knows he can’t. Scott shoves himself into a sitting position, rubs at his eyes, and then picks the stupid thing up. 

_Spoiler alert:_ the text reads _Danny wasn’t lying about the cuddling._

“God damn it Stiles,” Scott shouts as he throws the phone.


End file.
